


Oh, Sammy...

by prompt_fills



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Weechesters, ftm character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first girl Sam hits isn't even possesed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Sammy...

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Dean is a boy stuck in a female body. The story is about Sam though, and I think he seriously wouldn’t give a damn.

It’s Sam’s second week in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, AZ. School sucks.

“Remember, you’re a team. That means you’re no stronger than the weakest one of you is.”

 _Bullshit_ , Sam thinks, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at their coach. Dean and Sam had always been a team and even if Sam still can’t aim a rifle, it doesn’t make them losers. Sam does the research and Dean shoots the monsters dead in the eye. Dad takes care of the nastier stuff. That’s what it means to be a team.

Sam tells Coach Barlow so. Well, he doesn’t tell him about the monsters. He tells Barlow what he thinks about his couching skills. The man goes red in an impressively short amount of time, yelling at Sam for even daring to open his mouth, yelling like Dad sometimes does when they’re on a hunt and Sam stubbornly refuses to stay in the car. Sam concludes that Coach Barlow seriously doesn’t know a shit about teamwork.

He is send off the pitch and he couldn’t care less. It’s not like he can fail the classes when he’ll have attended at least three other schools by the time the midterms roll. Sam isn’t rebelling against the authority but that’s what it looks like to the other kids. _That Weird New Guy_ becomes _The Guy Who Pwned Barlow_. The kids from Barlow-terrorized classes think he’s a hero. Kinda.

Sam has never been but ignored at best in the previous schools, so he is dumbstruck when he is approached by Elizabeth Johnson. Sam remembers her from his History lessons – Elizabeth is the smartest one there and Sam is always a little jealous of her knowledge. Elizabeth is one of those _popular_ kids.

Elizabeth is also the first girl Sam hits. She isn’t even possessed.

She just invites him to hang out with her and her friends during the lunch break. Sam’s doesn’t turn her down.

Lunches at school taste like shit so they all head outside to exchange the snacks they brought with them. Sam has sandwiches Dean made for him, even if Dad usually scowls and tells Dean to _stop babying Sam_. Whatever, Dad isn’t there half of the time.

Sam plans on eating his sandwiches (even if Elizabeth eyes them, saying they’re her favourite). Then someone comes up with a pie. A goddamned home-made pecan pie. It smells heavenly. Sam ninjas two slices away and stashes them into his now empty lunch box before anyone realizes he’s not eating. Luckily, everyone is too busy fighting for the s’mores bars to notice.

Sam listens to Elizabeth and her friends chit chatter but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s got nothing to say to them, anyway. Elizabeth nibbles on the sandwich Dean made for Sam and Sam ignores the guilty feeling. He’s a pro at ignoring his feelings of guilt.

The kids talk about random things and Sam lets his mind wander, mulling over how little he fits in there with them. His gaze flickers across the school yard to find his brother. Dean is trying to gamble some money out of the older students – even if he’s not _that_ good at blackjack.

Elizabeth shifts next to him and he meets her eyes, reminding himself to pull the _friendly_ and _curious_ look right. He’s no idea what they’re chatting about. _Hmms_ and _ohs_ were sufficient so far. Oopst.

“Knowledge means power,” Elizabeth says with a bright smile as she leans a little closer to him. It’s completely out of context but Sam still thinks she can’t possibly understand what she’s saying. _Knowledge is a burden, Sammy,_ Dean’s voice chimes in his mind. Sam manages a weak smile and steals another look at Dean.

Elizabeth follows his gaze and then she snorts. “That girl keeps saying she’s your _brother_ ,” she spits it out like a curse, jerking her head to where Dean is scowling into his cards. Then she takes another bite of Sam’s sandwich. “Alex has a PE with her and she got knocked off in a game and her shirt got riled up...” Elizabeth trails of, sniggering. A few of her friends join her. “I think,” Elizabeth continues when she swallows, “that’s she’s sick in her head.”

Sam’s fists clench and his mind goes blank. Elizabeth calms herself down a little and turns her head to give Sam a pitying look. “It must be horrible for you to have such a fucked up sister.”

And one second Sam feels the wave of disgust wash over him and the other there are hands on him, shoving and leading him away, like he might launch himself at the girl again.

Sam breaks free of the hold they have on him and bolts.

Sam flees from the school, he sprints down the streets – he runs and runs and by the time he reaches the woods behind the town, he is so completely out of breath he collapses against the nearest tree trunk.

He wheezes, tears pricking in his eyes. He feels like he might be sick so he leans over to the side, one hand against the ground, fingers spread. Well, fuck. He breathes it out. The lump in his throat doesn’t budge, though.

He thinks about his brother, his patient, caring big brother, and about people who are narrow-minded, self-absorbed jerks. Sam thinks about life being unfair. About all those secrets they have to hide.

Sam also thinks back to that morning in Delaware. It was only a few months ago; Dean was hogging the bathroom for so long Sam decided to go in to brush his teeth and he found Dean struggling to bind his breasts with the elastic bandage from one of their first aid kits.

“Dad would spank you so hard, Dean,” Sam told him as he walked past him to the sink and reached for the toothpaste.

Dean locked his gaze with Sam’s in the mirror and he was grinning but Sam could see how tight Dean’s shoulders were. “Dad isn’t here.”

Sam smiled at that complete role reversal. Dean’s always the one who is trying to get Sam eat proper food and go to bed early because that what Dad would want. And Sam always keeps pulling the _But Dad Isn’t Here Now_ card until Dean caves in.

They were both silent for a while and then Sam spat, rinsed and wiped his mouth. Then he turned to Dean. “Come here,” he said, reaching to Dean.

Dean yelped when Sam’s cold fingers grabbed the lose end of the bandage and held it against Dean’s skin. “Stop fidgeting, you big pussy.”

“Hey, watch your mouth kiddo, or I’ll spank you.”

They both knew it was an empty threat because the last time Dean spanked him was a long, long time ago and it involved one of Sam’s experiments going south, resulting in Impala’s broken windshield and one very livid older brother.

It never occurred to Sam that there was something strange about Dean. Dean said he was his brother and Sam seriously couldn’t care less in which form his brother was. How he looked like or how he wished he’d look like. Other people minded. Dad minded. Sam didn’t. Sam probably wouldn’t be phased had Dean been a ghost. Well, maybe he would be unsettled then, because that would mean Dean died.

 _Fuck those fucking tears!_ Sam wipes them off his face as he tries not to think about Dean being dead and leaving Sam all alone in the world.

He draws his knees up and lowers his head to rest on them. He hears the quiet steps approaching but he stays where he is.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean says as he slumps down next to him. He is a little out of breath; he probably followed Sam all the way from the schoolyard.

“Go ‘way, D’n,” Sam mumbles into the crook of his elbow. Dean ignores it and shifts so their shoulders bump together.

“Disrespecting an authority figure, skipping school, fighting – fighting with _a girl_ ,” Dean lists. “I’m proud of you Sammy,” he adds after a beat and there is that fond, teasing tone Sam likes so much. He scowls at Dean, anyway.

Dean holds his hands up, “Barlow sucks, everyone knows that. You just informed the guy. That’s actually pretty polite.”

Sam keeps glaring, so Dean rolls his eyes and slouches a little further down. “So,” he starts with a cheeky smile. “You gonna tell me ‘bout that Elizabeth chick? What did she say to get you going?”

“You gonna tell me about Alex and getting knocked off in your PE lesson?” Sam retorts.

Dean’s expression falls.

Sam could have kicked himself. “Well, I’ll go first,” he stammers quickly. “She said it was about time you discovered make-up. Also, she suggested plucking your eyebrows.”

“Blow me,” Dean shoots back easily.

“She said your ass looks fat in those jeans.”

“Liar,” Dean drawls.

Sam doesn’t answer him, so Dean slightly nudges him with his elbow. “I’m jealous.”

That gets Sam’s attention.

“I tell you all kinds of stuff just to get a raise from you and you never take the bait, Sammy, never,” Dean explains.

“She said some shit about you,” Sam says quietly because it explains everything.

Dean lets out a long breath and his expression turns pined. “Dad thinks it’s a phase.”

“It’s not some fucking phase, Dean,” Sam says hotly.

“I know.” A pause, then: “Sometimes, I wish it was.” Dean sighs and raises up, offering a hand to Sam and pulling him up to his feet. They stand close to each other, Dean towering over Sam. Sam looks down to his feet and his bangs fall into his face. He blows them off his face and his lips thin as he remembers the day he vowed to himself he’ll always have longer hair than Dean. It was the same day Dad flat out refused to let Dean cut his hair _short_. Sam couldn’t bear the barely hidden envy he saw in Dean’s eyes. Like Sam was allowed to do something Dean wasn’t.

Dean clears his throat and Sam looks up at him and Dean has this expression on his face like he knows _exactly_ what Sam is thinking about. Dean pulls him into a bear-hug and Sam keeps resisting for a second or two before allowing himself to be crushed. Dean is wearing one of Dad’s t-shirts. It’s black and way too big for Dean.

“You smell like Dad,” Sam informs him. Dean just chuckles.

After that, neither of them speaks about Elizabeth or Alex. It’s not like they don’t both know.

It takes another week before Dad wraps up the job and comes to pick them up. Sam has never been happier to leave a town behind. Dean and him load their stuff in the car while Dad checks them out.

Sam crawls in the backseat of the Impala and Dean joins him. Sam is pleased because Dean normally rides shotgun these days. With a small smile, Dean leans to ruffle Sam’s hair. Sam tries to duck but has nowhere to move.

“I bought you something,” Dean says, holding up a book-shaped gift. Why Dean bothered wrapping it up is beyond Sam. Sam tears the wrapping paper off the moment he gets his hands on the gift. He crumples the paper, kicking it under the front seat, knowing Dean noticed.

It’s a history book. Sam stares at it for long moments, his fingers tracing the cover. Then he flicks the book open – it’s not some stupid school book. It has colourful maps and charts and copies of some hand-written letters. It’s beautiful. Sam practically whimpers, resisting the urge to literally bury his nose into the ink-smelling pages.

Sam carefully sets the book aside and throws himself at Dean. Dean squeezes back. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re the best brother ever, Dean,” Sam mutters into Dean’s neck quietly.

By the time they reach Denver, Sam has the better part of the book memorized.


End file.
